


depend on me

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brandon’s always loved Nick’s hands. He remembers the first time Nick kissed him, his long fingers cupping Brandon’s chin as he drew him in, his thumb swiping Brandon’s cheek when their lips met. He remembers many a night on their couch in Chicago, his fingers tangled with Nick’s under a blanket, or Nick’s hands in his hair while they kissed.  </p><p>Now, Nick’s fingers are tucked into waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down just enough that the jut of Brandon’s hip his showing.  He thumbs along smooth skin, moving just low enough that he meets the coarse hair in the dip of Brandon’s pelvis. Brandon shivers and closes his eyes.  He’s not hard, but the familiar warmth of arousal is building, and he feels his dick start to fill when Nick’s fingertips brush his hip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	depend on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shihadchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/gifts).



> Set at the near-end of a future season. 
> 
> A treat for Shihadchick, who mentioned always having a tab with THAT GIF of Leddy's hands open.

They’re up by one when Brandon goes down hard, the thud of his pads against the boards loud in his ears. He feels the familiar throb in his hip immediately and hisses in pain, rolling over slowly and pushing up on his knees. He looks up when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and Wenny ducks in, close to his ear. “You good?” he asks, and Brandon nods, blows out a breath and gets to his feet. 

His hip twinges sharply when he strides to the bench, but he ignores it, glancing up at the scoreboard. He has two goals and an assist, and they’re so close to making the playoffs he can taste it. Torts slaps his helmet and gives him a look, and Brandon nods once, clenching his jaw against the ache in his hip. 

After that, everything goes downhill.

**

The front window is dimly lit when he pulls up to his house, and some of frustration simmering in Brandon eases when he remembers that they have the Islanders tomorrow, and Nick is probably sacked out on his couch, waiting for him to get home. He pulls into the garage and gets out of the car gingerly, wrinkling his nose at the discomfort in his lower body. 

An injury is the last thing he needs right now, when his team is on the verge of the playoffs and playing better than they have in months. He’s proud to say he’s been a big part of that -- he’s having a career season, generating offense and helping his team win game after game -- but the loss tonight was a blow, a reminder that they’re not invincible, that nothing comes easy in this league.

He kicks his shoes off on the mat and tosses his keys on the counter, shrugging out of his coat as he makes his way through the kitchen to the living room. Nick’s stretched out on the couch, his arms folded over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. He’s wearing Brandon’s favorite sweats, clearly stolen from the basket of clean laundry he left on his bed, and his mouth is half-open as he snores lightly.

Brandon goes warm all over; seeing Nick never gets old, and coming home to him is better than scoring a game-winner in overtime. It happens so rarely that Brandon almost doesn’t want to wake Nick up; he stands at the foot of the couch and takes in his fill of Nick, of the way his chest rises and falls when he breathes, the way his long eyelashes flutter on his cheeks while he dreams.

He wraps his fingers around Nick’s ankle, drags his thumb over the bare arch of Nick’s foot, smiling when Nick kicks a little, turning his head to the side with a frown. When Brandon does it again, Nick huffs and opens his eyes, blinking a few times against the light. He breaks into a fond smile the minute his eyes meet Brandon’s, scrambling to sit up and reach for him. 

Brandon goes easily, sinks into the couch next to Nick and buries his face in Nick’s neck. He must have showered when he got here, Brandon thinks. He smells like Brandon’s shampoo. “Hi,” he mumbles, his lips touching the softness of Nick’s beard. 

“Hey,” Nick says, and curls an arm around Brandon’s waist, his fingertips slipping under the hem of Brandon’s shirt to touch warm skin. “Good game.”

Brandon makes an annoyed sound, and Nick laughs softly, kissing the top of Brandon’s head. “Can’t win ‘em all, babe.”

“Yeah, well,” Brandon says, sitting up. “We needed that one.”

“How’s the hip?” Nick asks, ignoring the comment. He presses his thumb into the muscle around Brandon’s hip, and Brandon goes tense. “That bad, huh?”

Brandon shakes his head and ducks in for a kiss, tired of thinking about the game and tired of worrying about the possibility of being out for any amount of time. Nick kisses back, and the tension in Brandon’s shoulders loosens. 

“Not that this isn’t great,” Nick mumbles against his mouth. “But did you tell Torts -- “

“It’s fine,” Brandon says quickly. “Nothing a little rest and some ibuprofen won’t fix.” 

Nick isn’t convinced, if they way he’s arching an eyebrow at Brandon is any indicator, but he goes back to kissing him again anyway, the scrape of his beard against Brandon’s skin enough to make him forget all about the shitty ending to what was supposed to be a sure win.

“Missed you,” Brandon says into the kiss, and Nick smiles and mouths along Brandon’s jaw. 

“Missed you too,” he says, and laughs when Brandon plucks at the sweats he’s wearing. 

“Thief,” Brandon accuses, and Nick shrugs. His eyes are lit up the way they always are when he’s with Brandon; it’s a comfort Brandon almost forgot he was missing. “Did you eat?”

Nick nods and leans back on the couch, one arm stretched along the back so Brandon can lean in against him. “Grabbed something on the way over. Are you hungry?”

“Nah,” Brandon says, and Nick tugs gently on the longish hair at the back of Brandon’s neck. 

“Tell you what,” he says. “You go upstairs and get in bed, and I’ll make you a sandwich.”

Brandon grins and sinks his teeth into the join of Nick’s neck and shoulder. “How about we just go to bed?” he says, his voice full of suggestion. Nick laughs and pushes him away playfully. 

“We’ll get to that,” he says. “Now go, I’ll be up in a minute.”

Brandon groans, but gets up anyway, loosening his tie as he makes his way upstairs. Nick’s already turned the bed down, and the lights are dimmed just the way Brandon likes them. Nick’s toothbrush is on the counter next to the sink, and his jeans are folded neatly at the end of the bed. It makes Brandon ache a little, makes him wish things could always be like this instead of just once or twice a year when they happen to be in the same city.

He strips out of his suit and hangs it in the closet, considers pulling on a pair of sweats but decides against it -- he’ll be out of them soon anyway, with any luck -- and eases himself into bed, flat on his back with his arms behind his head. The stretch feels good, and he closes his eyes. 

When he opens them again, Nick’s next to him, a plate in his hand and a smile on his face. “Hey, sleepy,” he says quietly. “You wanna eat this?”

“Later,” Brandon says, and sits up on his elbows. “C’mere.” 

Nick sets the plate on the bedside table and stretches out next to Brandon, his arm a welcome weight where it’s draped over Brandon’s lower belly. “Hi,” Nick says, and kisses Brandon’s shoulder. He presses the heel of his hand into Brandon’s hip, and Brandon’s breath stutters. “It’s pretty tight, babe.”

“It’s fine,” Brandon says, but he knows his voice gives him away, because Nick throws a leg over both of his, straddling his thighs and splaying his hands out over Brandon’s ribs. 

Brandon’s always loved Nick’s hands. He remembers the first time Nick kissed him, his long fingers cupping Brandon’s chin as he drew him in, his thumb swiping Brandon’s cheek when their lips met. He remembers many a night on their couch in Chicago, his fingers tangled with Nick’s under a blanket, or Nick’s hands in his hair while they kissed. 

Now, Nick’s fingers are tucked into waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down just enough that the jut of Brandon’s hip is showing. He thumbs along smooth skin, moving just low enough that he meets the coarse hair in the dip of Brandon’s pelvis. Brandon shivers and closes his eyes. He’s not hard, but the familiar warmth of arousal is building, and he feels his dick start to fill when Nick’s fingertips brush his hip.

Nick ducks down and presses his lips to all the places his hands have been touching, open-mouthed kisses that get Brandon’s pulse jumping. When he digs his fingers into the muscles around Brandon’s hip, Brandon groans, his thighs going tight.

“Relax, babe,” Nick says softly, and his touch goes light, then firm again, as he works the tightness from Brandon’s hip. Brandon jerks when he hits a particularly sore spot, and Nick bends down to kiss the spot, the flick of his tongue making Brandon’s dick twitch between his legs. He’s all the way hard now, turned on by both Nick’s proximity and the way he’s touching Brandon, his warm hands working their magic in all the right places.

“Better?” Nick asks after a while, and all Brandon can manage is, “Mm.” He feels boneless, completely content to lay here and let Nick touch him like this all night long. And then Nick leans in and noses along the length of his cock, and he’s suddenly on fire, the low curl of arousal going from warm to hot the second he feels Nick’s breath through the cotton.

His jaw goes slack when Nick mouths at the head of his dick through his underwear, his hands cupping Brandon’s hips, holding him still. “Feel good?” Nick asks, and Brandon almost laughs, but then Nick’s thumbs press into the creases of his groin as he pulls Brandon’s waistband down, and the laugh turns to a breathy moan.

Brandon’s eyes are only half open, but he can still see Nick’s smile, warm and predatory at the same time, and he fists his hands in the sheets when Nick swallows him down. The wet heat of Nick’s mouth makes him hot all over, a flush spreading from his neck down his chest, and when Nick gets his hands on Brandon’s inner thighs, he takes the hint and spreads his legs, getting his knees up, his feet planted on the bed as Nick’s mouth works his dick.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brandon chants, his fingers tangled in Nick’s hair. His knees drop to the bed and he gasps when two of Nick’s fingers dip below his balls, stroking the sensitive skin there, and when they move lower, brushing over his hole, Brandon groans long and low, lifting his hips off the bed. 

Nick smiles around his cock and raises his eyes, winking at Brandon before pulling off to swirl his tongue around the head of Brandon’s cock. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but Brandon can’t get enough of the way Nick looks between his legs, his lips slick with spit and his mouth open around Brandon’s dick. 

“You gonna come for me, B?” Nick asks, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously, and Brandon laughs, fucks up into the heat of Nick’s mouth when he takes him in again. Nick’s fingers press against his hole again, a gentle tease, and he tosses his head to the side when Nick’s throat works around him. 

It doesn’t take long after that. A few more slow laps of Nick’s tongue against his length, of the head of his dick bumping the back of Nick’s throat, and he’s coming, breathless at the sight of Nick swallowing him down.

His hand falls from Nick’s hair and lands on the bed next to him with a thud, and Nick laughs, nuzzling the soft skin of Brandon’s inner thigh. He kisses the inside of Brandon’s knee, his hip, just below his navel, and rests his chin on Brandon’s chest. He’s hard in his sweats, and Brandon makes an effort to get a hand down his pants, but he’s finding it hard to be coordinated right now. 

“You’re always helpless after you come,” Nick teases, and maneuvers himself so he’s straddling Brandon’s thighs again before pulling his dick out. Brandon watches with interest as his fingers play over the head -- Nick’s sensitive there, more sensitive than Brandon -- and then close around his shaft. 

“So hot, Leds,” Brandon mumbles, his eyes still heavy-lidded, and Nick quirks a grin, his mouth falling open when he brushes his thumb over his slit. “Gonna come all over me, babe?”

Nick’s dick jerks his hand and his rhythm picks up, and before long he’s fucking into his fist, sitting up on his knees and leaning in to press his mouth to Brandon’s, kissing him hot and hard while he comes all over Brandon’s belly. 

Brandon makes a complaining sound when Nick collapses on top of him, but he rests his hands on Nick’s lower back anyway, drawing lazy circles on his skin. After a few long, quiet moments, Nick shifts his weight, pulling the covers up around them before curling up against Brandon’s side. He drapes his arm over Brandon’s waist, one hand on his hip, and kisses the side of Brandon’s neck.

“Love you,” he mumbles, and Brandon breathes out, content.

“Love you too, Nick,” he whispers, and when he falls asleep, he doesn’t have a care in the world.


End file.
